George Weasley: Alone for the First Time
by speckledgit
Summary: George reflects about being alone for the first time.  A bit of a different style for me. Rated for a bit of language, nothing to explicit, just some slang. Not twincest/romance


He sat in the very back corner of the back room of the shop. Alone; something that he'd never truly been, that had been a recent development

It was a bit...dingy.

There must have been 20 layer of paint, that the twins had tried to spruce the room up with, not that you'd be able to tell from all the scorch marks and globs of who-knows what that littered the ceiling and walls.

After the war, life seemed to have paused for months, it had been nearly four. No one tried to work eight hour days, no one seemed to be motivated to do anything, but party and enjoy a life without Voldemort. But, no amount of time would replace the friends that they had all lost.

George had been toiling with an idea for days; it would've been hours if he had, well, if he had Fred to help.

_But I have to learn not to be so bitter about that. _

He reminded himself, solemnly.

He was a brooding mess; no one quite knew how to console him, or really what to say to him at all.

All for the best, it had allowed him to go days without being noticed or interrupted. He was currently inventing, or rather re-inventing the extend-able ear. A classic always brought a smile to his freckled face. Ideas for the shop would have to wait; he was trekking for personal gain right now.

Hermione had given him the idea, and by Hermione, he really meant Crooshanks. The half-Kneazle had been paramount in the need for a different approach. Having to untangle the upset feline from the string of flesh had proven to be annoying and dangerous to one's health.

He had plenty of scars from battles; he didn't need one more from a disgruntled cat.

"Topping," he murmured quietly to himself

He pointed his wand at the hole in his head, where his ear used to be.

"Memini Meminisse Formo." He looked at the small piece of flesh, "Well, hello, old friend."

George looked down, admiring his work as he looked closer at the ear in his hand.

"Wicked,"

_I wonder if it could be used on a larger scale_

He mused.

Now pointing his wand at the small, vulnerable ear, "Ferre," he said confidently and continued, "The Burrow, Kitchen."

The sounds of Celine Warbeck jumped about for a bit in his head.

_Well at least it worked, but next time I'll just send it to the front of the store._

He noted as his face scrunched up at the singer's wailing.

"Reddo", he swished his wand and the ear was once again in his palm.

He remembered fondly, the day that Fred had learned to send and retrieve objects. Fred had always been better with spell work; George's talent was inclined toward potions.

Well, he'd just have to make do now.

He pocketed the ear and turned to face a medium-sized picture that sat on the left side of the work bench. He gave it a scornful look.

"Oi, if you keep that up you'll start looking like Percy's twin, not mine," the picture of Fred called up to George. To this George simply 'hmphed'.

"Oh, ho, if you're going to be such a speckled little git, I might not bother coming back at the end of the month."

"Wanker," George pouted.

"Would it make you feel better if we shrank a pyramid and brought it back for you," commented the petite, blonde from under Fred's arm.

George gave a lop-sided smile to his newest sister-in-law, Alicia. She was his favor sister-in-law. She had been quiet in school and an excellent quidditch player, but most of all she had a wicked sense of humor.

"Tut's would be nice," he added.

Fred returned an equally lop-sided grin.

_I guess a month isn't too long to have to survive without him._

A week later, the Weasley's, a trio of newly un-obliviated Grangers, a Potter, a ickle-orphaned Lupin, a pair of Lovegoods and even a few Malfoy's sat around an elongated picnic table for a pleasant Sunday brunch.

Mr. Weasley sat reading a newspaper, a muggle one, a gift from Narcissa.

George's eyes scanned the front, "Tut's Pyramid: Vanished. Signs of Global Wind Storm Effects."

George quietly chuckled into his pumpkin juice.


End file.
